Never Let You Go
by D. M. Evans
Summary: How could he let her go, even if it was for her own good?


Title- Never Let You Go

Disclaimer- Arakawa owns all

Timeline/Spoilers- post 108

Warning- angst with a dollop of hope

Summary- How could he let her go, even if it was for her own good?

XXX

_I need to let you go_. Six simple words to end it all. So why the hell couldn't he say them? Roy rubbed his aching eyes with equally sore hands, trying to lose himself in the bustle of his Aunt's new place, The Last Resort. She insisted he recover under her care, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Chris Mustang was many things, but soft and nurturing wasn't one of them. He suspected she thought he needed watching after he told her about nearly losing Riza and losing his sight. His aunt knew the dark places his mind could go. Only three people were aware of those places. One was dead, and the other had nearly left him, too.

Roy shuddered in his chair by the fireplace. He glanced around as his 'sisters' busily decorated the new hostess club. Damn the licensing board that was taking forever to give his aunt the new liquor license. He'd have to get Grumman to personally kick them in the ass. He needed a brandy right now, whiskey, wine, the moonshine piss he had in the war, anything to take off the edge. Riza and Maes would kick _him_ in the ass for being so desperate. He could have sworn he saw Maes's ghost flickering at the edge of perception, but dismissed it as a side effect of his healing optic nerves and wishful thinking.

Even while he was blind, there was one image seared into his mind's eye: Riza bleeding out, her paling face rigid with pain and her eyes filled with a message for him: "Do Not Give In." He hadn't. His soul screamed to save her, but Roy hadn't dishonored her wishes. He almost considered the existence of God when the tiny princess had saved Riza, but there was one inescapable conclusion that brought daily nightmares to him; Riza had only been hurt because she followed him, because she was _important_ to him, and he had failed in every way to hide that fact.

He couldn't lose her, not to death, not because someone wanted to manipulate him. Roy knew he wasn't strong enough to obfuscate the chink in his armor and it was inevitable someone else would exploit his love for Riza again. Letting Riza go would hurt more than Bradley's swords through his hands, more that cauterizing the gaping wounds Lust's claws had gouged into him, but it had to be done for her sake. It would keep her safe. His back would be exposed, but he could find another subordinate to watch it, one he could trust but not love more than was healthy. "I need to let you go."

"You're an idiot."

At the sound of his aunt's gravely voice, Roy winced, turning around. He hadn't realized he'd said it out loud. "You don't even know what I'm talking about."

She snorted, smoke rolling out of her nose. "Like I need a boarding pass for the pity-pool locomotive you're on. You let that girl go, and you'll never stop regretting it."

Roy glowered. "You know the whole story now. You know I'm right. I have to protect her."

"What I know is your train is going off the rails. She doesn't need protecting, and she'll probably shoot you if you tell her that. I'll give her the bullets." Chris set her silver cigarette holder down on the mantle and for a minute he thought she might slap him one good and hard. Instead, his aunt shrugged. "If you're going to just sit there and mope, why don't you help Vanessa and the others set up chairs in the courtyard. We're having a few bands out there tonight, just as a teaser before we officially open. No one big, just some young bucks who want to get some exposure."

"You don't have a liquor license yet," Roy sank deeper into his chair. To hell with working.

"I have a kitchen. We'll sell snacks. This place might be a bit more respectable than the one you blew to hell," Chris replied.

Roy made a derisive sound. Respectable and his aunt were anathema to one another. "Got anything to drink hidden away?"

Her eyebrows rose. "No and if I did, I wouldn't be giving it to you, sad-sack."

"Coffee?"

"Get off your ass and go get it yourself. It's in the office where it always is. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and go put up chairs."

He made a face then held up his scarred hands. "I'm supposed to be taking it easy. My hands still hurt and my eyes are delicate."

"Fine, sit there then, take root. Eventually I'll call someone to come scrape you up and take you home." Chris cuffed him on the back of the head as she stomped off.

Roy hunched his shoulders. He shouldn't give his aunt a hard time. Chris didn't know what war was like. She hadn't seen someone she loved bleeding to death in front of her. Roy realized she had forgotten her cigarette case. He slipped one of the brown papered rolls of tobacco between his lips and dug out his gloves. Nicotine would work to calm his nerves. One snap and he breathed in rich tobacco and cloves. When did she pick up the clove addition? Xing? His mouth filled with a sour taste and his chest burned. He never did understand why his aunt and Havoc loved tobacco so much as to get addicted to it. It was nasty, but the rush of the chemicals from it fortified him somehow. He'd tell Riza next time he saw her.

XXX

Roy switched from moping inside to brooding outside, but only because Chris threatened to drag him by his manhood and hang him off the courtyard fence if he didn't. His aunt was just insane enough to do it. Bran Wayne's Quartet wasn't half bad, playing on the makeshift stage in front of a fat old oak in the courtyard. To Roy's surprise, a fair number of couples, both young and old, had shown up to dance the grass flat.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red, not too surprising. A fair number of the girls had turned out in their most flamboyant dresses. Roy looked down to the woman's bejeweled satin dress shoes, then followed the lines of her leg up. He did love a finely-turned leg. His brow knitted. These legs, kissed by red silk, were familiar. He canted his eye up into Riza's face.

Her hair was down, hiding her neck. She wore a collar of jet beads with strands of them dipping down into her generously cut neckline. He couldn't see her fresh scars, nor even a hint of her tattoo where the back of her dress didn't quite cover. He was so unused to her wearing smoky make up and blood red lipstick that he couldn't even think for a moment, his mouth too dry for speech. His blood wanted to turn tail and retreat to behind the lines of his belt and it took all his will to keep his body under complete control. His aunt had to have called her to meet him here, then armored Riza in jewels and beauty before sending her to kill him.

Roy got to his feet, trying to meet her eyes but he couldn't. "Hawkeye…" he murmured, barely loud enough to be heard over the quartet's trumpets.

"I'm here to hear the band," Riza said and he knew she lied. Maybe that statement was for anyone in the crowd who might recognize them.

"I have something I have to say to you, Hawkeye," Roy said, gathering his nerve.

"Oh?" She ran a finger over the streamers of beads, making them wave. All he could see now was the beginnings of her cleavage. He didn't even know Riza knew how to play the feminine sort of games that disarmed a man.

"I have to…that is." Roy licked his lips. God, saying what he needed to was too hard. He didn't want to have to let her go. "I nearly lost you and I can't let that happen again. I need to…"

"Sir, if you're trying to tell me you're dismissing me, I'm going to point out two things. One, I'm not resigning my commission and if I'm not guarding you, I'll be sent elsewhere to work for someone else, no less dangerous than staying with you." Riza held up one manicured finger. Chris had really gone all out in decorating Riza for the kill. Another finger went up. "And two, I can make up my own mind. I'm not a child, nor am I a damsel in distress. I'm here because I want to be, not because you've made me stay. You don't get a say in how I live my life. Your authority over me ends with the end of the work day. The rest is up to me. I'm not letting you go. I said I would follow you to hell and back and, as long as you don't go down a path I can not follow, I'll be at your side." Riza frowned at him. "This is a two person decision, and unless you can honestly look me in the eye and say you no longer need me, no longer want me, I'm staying."

Roy wiped at his eyes, dashing tears away. "Sorry. Marcoh said my eyes would ache from time to time for a while."

Riza reached up and caught a tear on her finger. "You are the worst liar I know. I'm surprised your aunt didn't teach you better."

Roy chuckled, a broken sound. "I can lie perfectly fine to everyone but you and her." And Maes but that no longer mattered. "I don't want to lose you, Riza," he whispered.

"That's why I'm staying here. Sending me away isn't going to change how we feel. A smart enemy would know that. You need me." She took his scarred hand.

"Always," he admitted, feeling a weight lifting off his chest. He could breathe again. "I don't know how to live if something happened to you because of me."

"You would figure it out and, if not, then I'll be waiting for you to join me."

Roy nodded. Riza was the one person who could make him believe in an afterlife. "Would you like to sit and listen to the music, or would you prefer to see inside and what my aunt is doing? There are some very nice suites upstairs."

He squeezed her hand. His aunt was right; He was an idiot. He could never let Riza go. Roy linked arms with her. "I'll give you the grand tour."


End file.
